


Save this dance for me

by Eriathalia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriathalia/pseuds/Eriathalia
Summary: Angels do not dance. That should be a given thing.Aziraphale is willing to try and learn anyway. After all he had somewhat mastered the Gavotte.





	Save this dance for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LawrVert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrVert/gifts).



Soft classic music was filling the old bookshop long after closing hours. The sun had vanished behind the horizon hours ago, after all it was the middle of the winter. 

Aziraphale bustled about his kitchen, the scent of fresh hot cocoa in the air. He was humming along with the tune, hips slightly swaying with the soft rhythm. He picked up his cup and smelled the cocoa with a content sigh.

"I thought Angel's did not dance" 

Aziraphale almost dropped his mug, startled by the voice behind him. He turned with an exasperated huff and crossed his arms.

"Who let you in here" he asked, though he could not quite keep up his annoyed facade. 

"Good lord Crowley, did you let yourself in again?"

Crowley shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. 

"What if I told you I missed you?" he pushed himself off the frame and advanced on the other, a nonchalant smile on his features.

"Then I would be inclined not to believe your silver tongue" Aziraphale shrunk back, though his eyes held the other's in silent defiance.

"You hurt my feelings angel" with a swift motion of his hand Crowley snatched the mug of cocoa from the counter and took a sip.

"Not too awful. That why you're in such good spirits?" He took another sip, then placed the mug back on the counter.

"Hardly. I got a new shipment of books. There are some real gems amidst them"

"Ah. That explains you dancing in your kitchen" he grinned, falling against the counter next to him.

"As you have stated angels do in fact not dance" Aziraphale quipped defensively. "It's not in our nature, contrary to your lot"

Crowley raised one of his elegantly curved eyebrows. "Now that is beneath you angel. I was merely trying to be ni- friendl- courteous."

"Which would be unlike you" the angel reached for the mug and downed the cocoa in one go.

"Angel's do not tell lies either. So what has gotten into you? I even brought some wine. Thought we could have a nice evening." Crowley produced a bottle of finest wine from thin air. "Can I tempt you to a glass or two, hm?" His smile turned out to be more genuine this time. The other stared at him in awkward silence, then finally nodded.

"Fine. Temptation successful" Crowley turned on his heels and returned to the backroom. If his hips swayed a little more than usual, who could hold him at fault for it. 

"Bring the glasses angel" he called over his shoulder.

"Not your servant" Aziraphale shot back but grabbed two of them anyway, following the other with measured steps. He set the glasses down on a nearby table and gestured for Crowley to fill them already. The other obliged, contemplated to take a swig from the bottle for good measure but decided against it.

"So what are you truly here for?" The question beckoned Crowley to look back up from where his eyes had been fixated on the lush red liquid swirling in his glass 

"Can't I just go see my best friend without any ulterior motive" he mumbled, and if Aziraphale hadn't known better, the other would have appeared to be hurt by his questioning. 

"Oh" the angel answered, taking a sip from his own glass, uncertain what to make off the awkward silence that was lingering between them. "Usually you do have one. I-I mean an...ulterior motive." He smiled back with uncertainty, sensing he was entering rather dangerous waters. After all Crowley hated to be compared to any of the dull, thick-skulled demons he was forced to deal with on an almost everyday basis. It was wearing the other down like a millstone grinding the corn until all that was left was fine dust easily carried away by the wind. 

Crowley threw his hands up in exasperation. 

"Yeah..and what about it? I'm a demon, bad thing. Falling into the pit and all. Awful being. Sure." He hissed in a sulphurous tone.

"That was not what I-" Aziraphale started but was cut off immediately, dread sinking into his guts. Apparently he had managed to cross the line. How stupid, he reprimanded himself internally.

"Not what you meant? You seemed to be rather clear about what you were thinking of me" Crowley had slipped forward in his seat glaring at the angel. Even though his snake-like eyes were hidden behind the dark shades Aziraphale could feel them burning into his skin.

"What's this all about?!" the angel straightened up in an attempt to show he was not going to budge. "This truly is unlike you" he sighed. "You know well enough I have an aversion to fighting" his tone was both pleading and pacifying. 

Crowley slumped back into his seat, mumbling something under his breath. Aziraphale sat down next to him.

"What is bothering you, dear boy" he asked, one of his hands coming to rest close to the demons albeit not daring to touch. The other merely shook his head. "Nothing. Just...a sore spot? Could you hand me that wine bottle" he motioned towards his empty glass.

"Ah" with a quick flick if his hand Aziraphale refilled their glasses. "Evening with copious amounts of alcohol?" 

The other grinned. "Suits me just fine" with that he emptied the glass right away, his cheeks taking on a soft pink glow. 

***

A few hours later they were utterly drunk. 

"Say Azzzziraphale" Crowley burped "say angel" he stood, immediately swaying on his feet.

"Say what, dear boy," Aziraphale looked at him fondly, his own pink cheeks emphasizing his soft smile. 

"Sssssay, do Angel's truly not dance," he stumbled towards the other "becaussssse you ssssseemed to enjoy it"

"I quite enjoyed the gavotte, dear boy" the Angel chuckled "I could show you" he tried to stand but had to steady himself against the next best shelf.

"No! No no no. Real dancing. Should try it. Bloody amazing. Would look ni- goo- " he huffed "Dance with me angel!"

Aziraphale stared, blinked, then stared some more. 

"What, now? But I hardly think-" he fiddled with the hem of his waistcoat.

Crowley groaned "Oh come on angel! Not as if you hadn't tried before." Swiftly he took a hold of Aziraphale's hands and dragged him to his feet. "Not that hard." He took one of the angel's hands and placed the other straight on his hips, though his muddled mind had for a split second contemplated placing it a little lower. It might have given Aziraphale a heart attack, which was in itself an accomplishment, but one he never wished to achieve.

Certainly enough the angel stiffened, unsure how to proceed. 

"Relax. 'M not gonna bite you or anythin' " Crowley giggled, thinking the flustered look on Aziraphale's face rather endearing. Of course he would not admit to that particular thing, what with keeping up appearances.

"Now follow my lead. One two three and- Ow!" Aziraphale had stepped right onto his foot, hard.

Crowley cursed under his breath, reflexively shaking out the food to relief the pain. When he focused back in the other his heart sank. Aziraphale looked miserable and about to run away, never to crawl out of whatever hole he would be hiding in. 

"I told you it was awful!" He whined and disentangled himself, taking a few steps back. He must have sobered up for his face held no more trace of inebriation, only a deep sadness.

It was far from what Crowley had been going for.

"I think it better if you go now" Aziraphale whispered. As Crowley was about to protest he merely raised a hand to silence him. "Please Crowley. I ah...have things to catalogue yet." It was a weak excuse, but Crowley opted not to push the matter. Part of him wanted to try and comfort the other for his clumsiness hardly mattered to him anyway, but he knew better than to push the boundaries of their friendship.

"Have it your way then" the words came out harsher than he had meant them to be but could hardly be taken back as Aziraphale had already walked up to the front door of his shop and opened it, thus Crowley accepted his fate.

As he crossed the doorstep he turned and asked "Dinner tomorrow night?" More quietly than usual.

The angel hesitated. "I will let you know."

"Yeah ah.. fine. Good. Have a ni- not unpleasant rest of the evening."

Aziraphale nodded weakly before closing the door. The blinds had already been drawn horse ago, shielding his red rimmed eyes and quivering lips from unwanted attention. He had not meant to kick the other out like this, but the fear of causing any harm by being just his stuffy, untalented self made him recoil from the idea of being anything but alone.

After locking the doors for good he turned and vanished to the farthest corners of his shop, fingers tracing the spines of ancient tomes until, with a victorious gasp, he drew one out from its spot, dusting it off with delicate fingers. 

Crowley had been right: he had learned to dance before. Who said he could not do it again. He flipped the book open and started to read. 

***

They did not go for dinner the following evening. Or the next week, nor the next month.

Whenever Crowley attempted to reach out to the angel, he either received no answer at all or some half hearted excuse. More often than not he would indulge in a bottle or two of single malt whiskey in an attempt to drown the feeling of loneliness that had made itself at home in the heart he was not even supposed to have. It was a foolish notion, after all they had sometimes not met for decades at a time, but Crowley had grown so accustomed to Aziraphale's company the lack of it left behind an empty space that nothing else could ever fill. An onlooker might have told him he truly missed the angel, however, he was loathe to admit it.

It took him all of six weeks to lose patience. One late afternoon, it was a dreadful day, rain pouring down from the dark grey sky in thick rivulets, turning all of London into a sea of umbrellas and damp, cursing citizens, he barged into the bookshop, his presence reminding any customers in it of having better things to do than buying old books. Within minutes the shop had emptied completely. 

Crowley flipped the sign on the door to closed, then drew the blinds. 

"Angel where are you" he shouted, voice reverberating from the walls. "You can't hide forever!" he sauntered towards the backroom and sure enough there was Aziraphale, leaned deeply over another one of his old, dusty books, pretending to be too caught up in it to even notice the visitor.

"I know you can hear me Aziraphale" twirling on his heel he fell against the side of his desk, reaching out to shut the book with a loud snap, a small cloud of dust rising in the process. 

Only now did the angel remove his glasses and look up, feigning surprise.

"Crowley. Haven't seen you in some while." he mumbled, recoiling from the intense stare the demon fixed him with. "Dreadfully busy weeks you must know" Aziraphale forced a smile upon his face, though his usually bright eyes spoke more of nervousness.

"For six weeks straight? You do not answer my calls and if you do you simply brush me off. I knew you love you books, but are those inanimate objects worth more than your best friend?!" Crowley blurted out before his brain could filter the words in order to appear more annoyed than hurt, alas his sharp tongue had failed him miserably. He stared, forcing himself to at least hold the angel's gaze, admit no more weakness than he already had. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here after all, he mused. There was no turning back now anyway.

"Has it been that long?" Aziraphale appeared genuinely surprised. "You must be mistaken, dear boy. It has hardly been a week since-" he was cut off by a frustrated growl. 

"Oh. It has been" the angel whispered regretfully. "I guess I should...apologize?" A tentative smile spread across his face, though it was met by an icy frown. 

"Not if you do not mean it" Crowley busied himself with pointedly looking the other way. He was grateful for his dark shades shielding his eyes so well, for he would not been able to tell.which kind of emotion the other would have found in them. "What were you up to all this time anyway?"

"Oh, oh you know" Aziraphale spoke up, fingers curling around the thick tome in front of him to stop them from shaking. "Cataloguing more books, thwarting customers from buying any...ah" he cleared his throat "and maybe practicing some?" he bit his bottom lip, looking almost sinful from what Crowley could tell watching the other from the corner of his eye.

"Practissssing?" The hissing gave away his uncertainty. "Pray tell me, what might you have been prac-tissssing?" He leaned down, coming at eye-level with the angel.

"Well ah...best to show you. It will be tip top. All good. Just fine." 

"Your point angel" Crowley pressed on, not at all satisfied with the evasive answer. 

"I could show you?" Aziraphale felt dizzy. He had in fact been so caught up in practicing and reading up all there was to know on classical and some modern dance that time had rushed by too fast. That and the fact he still lacked any talent whatsoever. Dancing did not come easy to his kind, but he never quite fit into the regular schematics as was. After failing so miserably he had been determined to beat whatever foolish standard had been set for him. Of course it had not been his intention to make his closest friend believe he no longer cared, but as an ethereal being time hardly mattered in the same way as it did to humans. Thus he forgot just how much of it had passed in what appeared to be hardly more than the blink of an eye to him. 

"Please do" Crowley spoke the words in a manner that clearly stated 'hurry up there, my patience is running thin'. It did not help with the angel's nerves. Yes, he had improved considerably and yet he thought himself hardly adequate to match his friends elegance that was even enhanced by his tall lean frame. 

Aziraphale shook the thought off before his mind could wander into what might have been far less than proper. Instead he rose from his chair and more stumbled than walked over to his old but impeccable grammophon. 

He put the needle down and started it, a soft tune filling the air, light and flowing like a calm river across the country. 

Again he cleared his throat as he turned back towards his companion, then held out a hand.

"May I ask for this dance, dear boy?" He smiled shyly, his hands clearly not as steady and calm as he would have liked it to be. 

It took a moment for Crowley to react, but when he did his features turned soft. He took the proffered hand in his own, then slipped the other around the angel's wide waist. The fabric beneath his fingertips felt soft and warm, just as everything about Aziraphale did. The fragrance of expensive cologne wafted over, mixed with the angels unique scent. It was both intoxicating and calming at once.

It started out a little wonky, but soon they were swaying to the music, bathed in a warm glow from the light above, caught in a tranquil moment that filled both of them with a joy they had rarely known in their long existence. 

Nothing was spoken between them, but when Aziraphale reached up to remove the other one's shades, Crowley did not protest, daring to reveal his innermost emotions to his angel. His eyes, though seemingly cold and unmoving to someone who did not know him the way Aziraphale did, spoke of fondness and trust and longing and so much more neither of them would have been able to put into words. 

When a gentle kiss landed on his lips, Crowley could not help but sigh, his hands coming up to cup his angel's face, tracing the round cheeks and burying themselves in silken strands of blonde hair, returning it with all he had never dared saying out loud. The way Aziraphale's arms tightened around his back and his mouth opened to welcome him was all the answer he needed.


End file.
